Bright Blessed Days, Dark Sacred Nights
by Ms. Redd
Summary: It wasn't easy - nothing with them ever is - but it's been years and they've left Ohio and all the immaturity and bad decisions that went with it behind them. Now all they have is New York and the little family they both deserve. Even now, it's not always easy. Still, it's not like they'd change a second of it.
1. Badass is a Family Trait

"Upstairs, Little Man."

Rachel hears her boys come in, her husband sending their six-year-old son directly to his bedroom. She focuses all her attention on wiping down the island in the kitchen – just like she's been doing for the last 15 minutes. She needs an excuse not to look at him when he comes in; she knows he's probably not happy. She also knows she shouldn't try to avoid him, but it's been a really long day for her and she isn't sure she can handle whatever he's going to say right now.

"So," Puck finds his wife in the kitchen, cleaning a countertop that looks plenty clean enough to him. "Just left Jude's school. Interesting talk with the principal." He wants to smirk when she drops her dishtowel on the island and braces her hands on the edge, but he schools his features, crossing his arms and leaning back against the opposite counter, in case she turns around.

See, the last thing Puck had expected when he picked his son up from school was to get called into the principal's office over a fight. Well, almost-fight. Close enough. Sure, he knew there'd been some other kid picking on Jude for a while now. Apparently, mini-douche didn't approve of Little Man's wardrobe. (And throwing out the name _Kurt Hummel? _So not impressive to a first grader.) He'd had his own suggestions for how to fix the situation, but Rachel'd stepped in real fast with all her _violence isn't the answer, people like that aren't worth your time, just walk away _business. He'd bit his tongue then and agreed with his wife, partly because they always put up a united front and she was right like, 97.3% of the time anyway, but also because he didn't want his son being the same guy he'd been, just in case there wasn't some bossy brunette whirlwind around to straighten him out later on. He didn't want Jude being a Rachel-clone either, though, particularly in this area. She had mastered the art of walking away from a bully, possibly when she was even younger than Jude is now, to the point that he had to come along and straighten _her _out - when it came to standing up for herself, at least. (Ya know, unless it had to do with a solo or somethin', that part she had down.)

That was why it had been such a shock to him when Mrs. Lewis sat him down in her office that afternoon and explained everything that had happened in the morning. Seriously – like he'd just kind of stared at her for a full minute, then looked around for the hidden camera. Because Jude getting in a fight with his bully? Pretty unexpected. But Rachel gettin' into it with the kid's mom? That was some _Punk'd_ shit right there.

"What happened to walkin' away, Rach?"

She hears the amusement in his voice (come on, she _knows _her husband), and a little of the tension – that part that was there only because she was worried about his reaction – slides away. Still, she doesn't really appreciate his teasing at the moment. "I know," she slides her hands up onto the counter and leans into them, "but you didn't see her. She was such a _bitch_." She nearly growls the word that she has used only a handful of times in her life, including the now two times she's said it today.

"Sounds like you made that pretty clear." He almost chuckles at her, but then she turns to face him and her chest is heaving and he tries really hard to think about something other than just how hot she is. (But when has he ever succeeded at that?)

Rachel groans a little in frustration. She knows what she did was immature, okay? Immature and counterproductive and the exact opposite of what she and Noah are trying to teach Jude. But he's her boy, her and Noah's Little Man, and that woman … she just couldn't control herself. "It's just … it's hard enough on him as it is, you know? Being the celebrity kid." She rolls her eyes at the term, because she hates labeling her son that way, but under the circumstances it's the only thing that really seems to fit. "He's just trying to be normal, to fit in. The last thing he needs is some _bully _picking on him. I know what it's like to deal with bullies, Noah. We both do, and," she takes a deep breath, and when she lets it out she feels a little of her anger go with it so that she kind of deflates a little bit, "I don't want him to go through that. He's my baby, Noah."

"He'll be fine." Puck's trying to reassure her, of course, but he really believes that, too. There's too much of both of them in that little boy for him not to be. "He's a tough kid." Rachel just kind of looks at him like she doesn't quite believe him. "But you know what, I'll take care of it." He lets his hands drop so that they're kind of resting on the edge of the countertop beside his hips and sends her that smile he knows she loves. "Just," the smile shifts into a smirk as he crosses one ankle over the other and rests more of his weight on the counter so that he's practically sitting on it at this point, "in the meantime, try not to kill anyone. 'K, slugger?"

Rachel ignores that last comment. She knows what he's doing. He's an expert at riling her up and making her forget nearly everything except him. She narrows her eyes a little before asking, "What are you going to do?" It's not that she doubts him. She's known since – well, she's always known – that if he says he's going to do something she may as well go ahead and consider it done. She's just genuinely curious about what he has in mind.

"I'm gonna call his mom a bitch and then push her," he says, as seriously as he's ever said anything. She just rolls her eyes and turns her back on him again.

"Oh that's right," Puck thinks he's done pretty good – he's made it this far without even cracking a smile (well, besides that one, but, ya know, that was totally for her benefit) – but he can't keep it up any longer. He laughs outright as he continues. "You already did that." He laughs even a little bit harder when she turns her head to look at him over her shoulder with a clearly unamused '_ha-ha_.'

"Look," he continues after a minute, once he's mostly stopped laughing. "I don't know what I'm going to do, okay, but I'll figure it out."

Rachel lets her shoulders drop a little, feeling herself deflate entirely. He's making jokes now, but she knows all she's really done is make more work for both of them in the long run. They're going to have to explain to Jude why Mommy pushed another little boy's mommy and said bad words to her, and they're still going to have to figure out how to help him handle his bully. Most of that is probably going to fall to Noah, since all her own credibility on the matter took a hike along with her composure that morning. He's a wonderful father and she knows he loves his son and would do anything for him, but she hates that she just added to the list of things he actually has to do.

"I'm sorry," she sighs, her thumbnail picking at the grout between the counter tiles.

"Are you kidding me?" His voice is incredulous – and very close. She leans back into him when his hands land on her hips.

Puck slides his hands around until they rest, one just above the other, low on her stomach. He flexes them, his fingers pressing into her skin just enough to hold her body against his, and leans down, pushing her hair aside with his chin. His lips brush across her ear as he almost whispers, "My girl is a badass." He actually nips at her ear a little with his teeth and smirks when he feels her shiver against him before raising one hand to rest on the back of his neck. "That's hot."


	2. I've Been Watching You, Dad

Puck holds up one finger, a signal to his bandmates to give him a minute. He digs his vibrating phone out of his back pocket as he makes his way out of the sound booth and into the studio's control room.

"Rach, baby," he starts as soon as he answers the phone after seeing her name, "ya know I love you, but this isn't -,"

"Noah," his name comes out as a sob and he's not sure the last time he heard her sound so panicked. He stops moving in the middle of the control room because now she has his full attention. "Noah," she whimpers again, "Jude … the school called … hospital …" and then he wants to scream because she just stops talking (okay, to be fair, he thinks she's trying to say something, but all he's getting is crying, and that is _not _helping him like _at. all._) and right now all he can figure is that something happened at school that ended in his kid going to the hospital.

"Fuck," he bites out, his free hand running over his head to grip a fistful of his own short hair, "what hospital?" And yeah, he really wants to know exactly what the fuck happened to Little Man, but, _priorities_.

Puck's still standing stock-still in the middle of the studio, and now everyone else is too. The guys are still in the booth and can't possibly know what's going on, but Gary, their manager, is hovering over Puck's shoulder like some kind of … some kind of fucked-up human helicopter or something, and the looks on both of their faces must be enough to let everyone know something big's goin' down.

Rachel says – cries – _something, _but he honestly can't make out a word of it. He has no idea how Gary does, especially since the dude's not actually even on the phone with her, just kinda listening in, but Puck vaguely hears him tell her to be careful and that he will make sure Puck gets there. Next thing he knows, the line's dead and Gary's got one arm around his shoulders tugging him out of the building and toward the Town Car just up the street. He doesn't say thank you – doesn't trust his brain or his mouth to say anything, actually – but he's pretty sure Gary knows how awesome he is for always putting the guys' families above everything else.

In the car, Gary barks directions at the driver, and honestly, Puck still doesn't know where they're going, just has to trust these guys to get him there. His mind's moving a million miles a minute, trying _not _to go over all the possible reasons for his son to have to leave school in the middle of the day to go to the damn hospital, and there's really not room for anything else. He closes his eyes and drops his head back onto the back of the seat and reminds himself that he's in _New Fucking York _and screaming at the driver to stop driving like his Nana isn't really gonna do anything for anybody.

Puck swears it's been an hour by the time they pull to a stop in front of the emergency entrance of Presbyterian, but when he looks at his phone as he's climbing out of the car to see if Rachel called back and he somehow missed it (he's equal parts terrified and hopeful that happened, honestly), he sees that it's only been eight minutes. It's too bad he can't really manage to feel happy or proud or whatever about that.

He actually ends up following Gary through the automatic doors, and he doesn't know how or why it happened that way, but he recognizes that it's probably a good thing, since his brain isn't really functioning at the moment.

"Hello," Gary's saying to the receptionist before they even get to the counter, "we're looking for a patient we believe you have here, Jude Puckerman. This is the boy's father," he gestures behind him toward Puck, who just feels completely lost, "and his mother may have already arrived." The girl starts typing and Gary leans over the counter a little bit, and Puck just stands there wishing someone would tell him what the hell to do right now, 'cause his boy's in the hospital and Rachel's either back there, probably losing her mind, or on her way, probably losing her mind, and he's just standing there, totally useless to both of them.

"Noah!" Rachel's voice is loud and broken coming from behind him and he has his arms open for her before he even spins to face her. "I came as fast as I could but the cab wouldn't go any faster, and … and …" she's kind of shaking in his arms and he's pretty sure he's the only thing keeping her upright right now, and suddenly she's got her face completely buried in his shirt, which is soaked through already from her tears, and he barely catches the next words out of her mouth. "I'm so scared."

And just like that, the fogginess, that confusion, that was there before – it's gone. Because Rachel's here and she needs him, and that just reminds him that Jude's back there somewhere, and he needs him too, and he's no good to either of them standing around like an idiot. He adjusts Rachel in his grasp so she's tucked under one arm, that hand rubbing slowly up and down her arm and the other reaching across his body to land on her hip, and pulls her along with him as he steps up to the counter. Gary doesn't say anything, just nods once then goes to stand beside the girl Puck now recognizes as one of the dancers from Rachel's show.

"'M Noah Puckerman," he tells the receptionist without letting go of Rachel, and it's not like he's trying to drop his own name or whatever, he just thinks it's best if they get it settled from the start that it's his son back there, "and this is my wife Rachel. Our son's here, somewhere. His school sent him, or brought him, or something. His name's Jude and he's five, basically a three-foot-tall mini-me."

"Yes, Mr. Puckerman," the woman talks in a soft voice he knows is supposed to be soothing, "I do have record of your son being checked in about 30 minutes ago. If you'll just go down that hall right there, then take a right at the end, you'll be in the right area and someone will be able to help you."

Puck nods once and sort of considers turning around to tell Gary and Rachel's cast mate where they're going, but he can tell Rachel just had that slapped-in-the-face thing he had a couple minutes ago and now she's got a death grip on his hand as she takes off in the direction indicated by the receptionist.

The first person Puck sees when they get into the emergency room waiting area is Jude's kindergarten teacher. She's sitting in one of those shitty metal and plastic chairs, her eyes red and puffy and her hands wringing in front of her, but when she sees Puck and Rachel come in she jumps up and rushes toward them.

"I'm so sorry," she cries.

Miss Kelly is a tiny thing, almost as small as Rachel and younger than them, and she's a good teacher. Jude loves her and, even more importantly, Puck can tell she loves him and the rest of her kids. He's sure whatever happened wasn't her fault, and he's not mad at her or whatever, but making her feel better isn't his first priority at the moment, so he stops walking when she's right in front of them but he doesn't say anything to her. He's busy scanning the room over her head trying to figure out the best game plan to find someone who can tell him what the hell's up with Little Man.

"I tried to stop him," she's saying shakily. "I called to him across the playground but I guess he didn't hear me, and I was on my way over to get him when he just fell."

Rachel's nails dig into his hand, and yeah, he heard that too. Fell? What the hell does 'fell' mean? Okay, yeah, he knows what the word means, but what does it mean right now, in relation to Jude? He's just about to ask her that when a doctor comes out from behind the curtain separating the waiting room from the patients. "We'll be back," he tells her quickly, then squeezes Rachel's hand two times before taking off toward the doctor. He can hear her shoes clicking on the floor and he doesn't even have to pull for her to keep up with him.

"Jude Puckerman," he almost barks when they stop in front of the doctor, who just looks back at him a little quizzically.

"We're his parents," Rachel supplies, and he leans down to kiss the top of her head because he just realizes he hasn't done that at all since she got there and she probably needs it. (_He needs it._)

The doctor nods and gives them a little smile – it's the same smile the receptionist gave him before and he's really sick of that smile. "Mr. and Mrs. Puckerman. Just who I wanted to see."

"Where's my son? Is he okay? What happened?" Rachel sounds frantic again, and to the doctor's credit he's still wearing that smile and not looking at her like she's crazy or something, but Puck pulls his hand from hers and wraps his arm around her to pull her close anyway, because the doctor may not be familiar with that voice, but he is.

"He's fine, Mrs. Puckerman," the man reaches out to rest one hand on Rachel's forearm and she just kind of stares at it. "There was a minor accident at school. I'm sorry I can't give you all the details on that, but I believe his teacher's here somewhere. She came in with him. It really wasn't nearly as bad as it looked; head wounds always bleed a lot."

"Head … _head _wound?" Rachel stutters, and Puck looks around for the nearest trash can because he's pretty sure he's about to puke.

"Yes ma'am," the doctor nods, "but like I said, he's fine. It was just a small cut. We did have to shave his head for the stitches, so I hope you weren't too attached to those curls."

"Wait," Puck breaks in, because he heard the word 'stitches' and actually felt Rachel's knees go out on her a little, and he needs to step in now. "Stitches? How many? Was there a plastic surgeon involved? I mean, no offense or whatever doc, but I wanna make sure this gets done right."

The doctor just nods again. "I understand Mr. Puckerman, and no offense taken. However, no, there was not a plastic surgeon involved. With it being a head wound," Puck really wishes he'd stop saying that word, because Rachel just shuddered and a little whimpering sound came out of her throat, and it doesn't make him feel too hot either, "and especially without having either of you here to consult with, we decided to take the quickest course of action to stop the bleeding and make sure there wasn't any other damage." Puck guesses he can appreciate that, he just doesn't want his kid scarred for life 'cause some hack who couldn't even pass home ec sewed him up. "And really, with the position of the wound, there's not much else that could have been done. It's basically skin over bone. There probably will be a scar, but it will be small – he only needed three stitches – and it will be very inconspicuous."

Puck can't tell if the doctor's being completely honest with him or just feeding him a line of crap so he doesn't lose his shit, but whatever. He really just needs to see his son at this point. "We wanna see him now."

"Of course. My associate was just finishing up the stitches when I came out to find you. I'm sure Jude is just as anxious to see you as you are to see him at this point."

"Wait, you didn't work on him?"

"No, Mr. Puckerman. I'm actually a neurologist. I was just here to make sure there didn't seem to be any damage other than the external wound. I leave the stitching to someone else. Your son is in very talented hands, I assure you." The doctor moves back toward the curtain he had come out from behind, Puck and Rachel on his heels, but stops just before opening it. "I do want to warn you," he's looking at Rachel as he speaks and Puck holds her a little tighter because he knows she's dying a little inside. (_He is too._) "He's rather pale, from the blood loss. And he will probably be a bit woozy. That's from the pain medication; there was no concussion."

He pulls back the curtain and Rachel and Puck follow him through and the first, and only, really, thing Puck sees is his son sitting on a hospital bed looking pale, like the doctor had warned them about, and so, so tiny.

"Momma! Daddy!" Jude calls out to them with this megawatt, Rachel-Berry-smile.

"Oh my God!" Rachel gasps, and she slips out from under his arm and practically sprints the five feet to the bed. She's got her hands all over him – arms, legs, stomach, face – and nearly every touch is followed by a kiss to his nose, cheek, forehead, even his ears. Jude is giggling like a little maniac and every so often he lets out this startled little '_Momma!_' like she's tickling him or something.

Puck follows her most of the way over, but hangs back just a little. He thinks she needs to have this moment. Besides, he got this feeling when the curtain opened and he saw his boy sitting there, a little under the weather maybe, but basically fine, and he needs to let that ease off just a little before he says or does anything.

"He's been in great spirits since he arrived," the doctor says from just to Puck's right, and honestly, he'd forgotten the man was even there. "You've got a great kid there." Yeah, he knows. "Oh," the doctor chuckles a little, "he made me promise to tell you that he didn't even cry a little."

Puck smirks over at the doctor, and the man smiles and seems to take that as his cue to leave. Pride cuts through that other feeling and Puck steps forward, closing the gap between himself and his wife and son. Rachel's pushed herself up onto the bed to sit next to Jude, so he stops right in front of them and leans forward, pressing his fists into the mattress so he's boxing them both in.

"Hey Little Man."

"Hey Daddy," his boy beams up at him and he really has no choice but to smile back.

"How ya feelin'?"

"Good."

"Yeah?" Jude nods and starts picking at a patch of grass stain on his pants. "Hit your head?"

"Mmhmm." He looks over at Rachel a little, and Puck can tell he's really worried about that stain right now. He's 110% positive Rachel doesn't give a shit.

"Let's see." Jude ducks his head and leans forward so that his head is practically between his knees. Rachel reaches over to wrap one arm around his back and rest the other hand on his knee. Normally he'd make fun of her for being so protective, but, ya know.

There, on the back of his head, just below the crown, is a small, square bandage. There's a large area around it that's been shaved down with clippers, and Rachel slides her hand up to twist a curl at the base of his neck around her fingers. It's funny, because she's the one that's been wantin' to cut it for a few weeks now, but he knows she'll probably cry later when they trim the rest of it down to match what the nurse did.

Puck pats Jude's hip a couple times with his hand. "Alright buddy, up." He figures that position can't be the best for him at the moment. "Ya wanna tell your ma and me what happened?"

"I fell." He says it all matter-of-fact, and it reminds Puck so much of Rachel he almost laughs. Almost.

"Yeah? How'd that happen?" Rachel's moved her hand out of Jude's hair now and is rubbing circles over his back, and he's about to tell her to stop chewing her lip before she bites a hole in it. He can tell how hard she's working to keep it together, and he loves her for it. He also knows that if she opens her mouth she's either gonna start bawling (again) or gushing over the kid and swearing she's gonna, like, home school him or something so she never has to let him out of her sight again, so he tries to keep the conversation moving.

"Well …" Jude trails off a little and Puck knows that means he was probably doing something that would get him into trouble under any other circumstances. "I was on the top of the monkey bars -,"

"You mean the ones Miss Kelly told you not to go to the top of?" They had this conversation at kindergarten orientation. Instead of just telling the younger kids that certain big playground equipment was totally off-limits, they give them guidelines on how to play on it. It's supposed to teach respect for boundaries or self-discipline or something like that. Rachel ate it up. He knows the teachers and parent volunteers watch them like hawks, so he's surprised Jude made it to the top in the first place.

"But Daddy, I _had _to." Puck quirks one eyebrow at him, and he can tell Jude is deciding exactly how much of this story he wants to tell. After a couple seconds, though, he sits up as straight and tall as he can and Puck knows he's gonna tell the truth because he doesn't see anything wrong with what he did. (And also a little because of the pain medication.) "Yesterday for art we went outside to make stuff with clay," he turns his big hazel eyes on Rachel and lowers his voice to what he _thinks _is a whisper, "I made you a jewelry dish Momma, but shh, don't tell, it's a s'prize." Rachel's eyes widen and Puck holds back a chuckle. He wonders what kind of drugs they gave him for the pain. Just like that, though, Jude's attention is back on him, and he doesn't really get a chance to think about it. "And the big kids were havin' recess, and Abby said some big boy was _cool _'cause he was on the top of the monkey bars. So today at our recess I had to show everybody I could get to the top too."

Puck smirks. "Had to show everybody, or had to show _Abby_?" Rachel glares at him a little, but oh well. This isn't the first time he's heard that name, and he honestly thinks this little crush is pretty hilarious. Besides, Jude won't talk about it much, clamming up every time he realizes he's let the little girl's name slip, so Puck figures he'll take advantage of the fact that Little Man's probably not _completely _in control of what's coming out of his mouth right now.

Jude drops his head to stare into his lap, "Abby was there," he mumbles. This time Puck can't help but laugh a little bit.

"Alright, so you got to the top and showed everybody how cool you are, then what happened?"

"It was real easy gettin' up there." Jude's eyes are all big as he stares up at his dad. "But it wasn't so easy gettin' down. I heard Miss Kelly yellin' at me, and I wasn't trying not to listen to her, I swear! But, I just didn't know how to get down." He drops his head and just sits there like that for a minute, until Puck finally cups his chin and gently lifts his head.

"Keep goin'."

"I saw Miss Kelly coming over, and she looked scared, and that made me feel bad, so I figured I should try really hard. Only when I tried, I just fell down."

"Did it scare you when you fell?" Puck asks, and Jude dips his head and draws his bottom lip between his teeth. Everyone always talks about how he looks just like Puck, his ma's even got this thing about hangin' pictures of the two of them at the same age side-by-side goin' up the stairs, but there are times, like that moment, when Puck swears the boy's 100% Rachel. Not like he'd complain about that _ever_, but he does know it means he's in trouble, 'cause he can't say no to either of them when they look like that. (He's pretty sure he's the only person who's not surprised when he's the softie with Jude and Rachel's the hard ass.)

"It's okay, ya know, to be scared sometimes." He rests his palm over Jude's shoulder and brushes his thumb over his collarbone through the cotton of his shirt. Jude nods, and Puck knows he's not just agreeing, but admitting to being afraid. "That's what I thought. So now – hey, look at me," he stops until Jude lifts his head, looks him in the eye, "now do you know why Miss Kelly told you not to go up there?" Jude nods again.

"Noah," Rachel's all quiet when she says his name, and it's not like he's forgotten she was there, by any means, but it's been so long since she said anything that it startles him. He turns his head a little to look at her, and she sets one hand on the wrist that's still right beside her hip, lifts the other to point over his shoulder. "I think the nurse needs to talk to us."

Puck turns his head to look in the direction she's pointing, and there's an older nurse standing behind him, smiling gently at the three of them.

"I don't mean to interrupt, Mr. and Mrs. Puckerman," the nurse begins, "but I just wanted to let you know that there's some paperwork to take care of, since we admitted your son on the authority of a third party, but other than that you're free to go. You should watch him closely over the next 24 hours, though there have been no signs of a concussion, and we've put in a prescription for a child-safe, liquid pain reliever. He'll probably need that for a couple days. Would you, um," she looks a little uncomfortable and Puck just wants her to spit it out, "would you like us to take care of his hair here, or …"

Puck glances over at Rachel and she's just kind of staring pleadingly back up at him. He knows what she wants, and that's just to get their boy the hell out of the hospital as fast as possible. "Nah, s'okay. We'll take care of it at home."

"Okay then," she nods, "well, one of you just come find me at the nurses' station when you're ready to get that paperwork taken care of."

The nurse walks away and Puck flips his hand over so that he can lace his fingers with his wife's. He takes a step back from the bed and tugs lightly so Rachel will come with him.

"Well little man, you heard the woman. Time to get you outta here. We got a haircut to tend to."

Rachel sighs and lifts her free hand to run through just the very front of Jude's hair, right over his forehead. "I know what I've been saying about him needing a haircut, but I'm going to miss his precious curls."

Puck grins and bends down to kiss Rachel's own hair, right above her ear. He knew she'd do this.

"Ya hear that, Little Man?" he smirks at his son, "No more curls, no more long hair. It's gonna be even shorter than mine. Like Uncle Jake's."

Jude looks up at him with giant eyes for a second, and for a kid who didn't cry when he fell off the monkey bars onto his head or when he had to get stitched up, Puck seriously thinks he might cry now. But then this giant smile is takin' over half his face. "Yeah, but I'm gonna have a scar like _you _Daddy. The doctor said so."

Puck doesn't mean to reach up and finger the little scar on the back of his head he got in a dirt bike accident when he was a teenager, doesn't even realize he's doing it, honestly, but either way, the tips of his fingers are running over that little spot where the hair doesn't quite grow in right and Jude's looking at him like he's never been so proud of anything in his entire life.

Rachel tenses a little beside him then pulls her hand from his and clears her throat so he looks over at her. "I'm going to go take care of that paperwork. You go find Gary and take your son home." She leans down and presses a kiss to Jude's cheek, then pushes herself up onto her toes to do the same to Puck. "I'll see you boys there."

He's still staring after her, confused as fuck, when Jude asks about Miss Kelly.

"Yeah buddy, she's here, you wanna talk to her?"

"Yeah, she was really sad." He clasps his hands in his lap and kicks his feet a little. "I feel bad."

"Alright. You stay here and I'll go get her." Jude nods and Puck grabs his leg. "I mean it Jude," he says seriously, "don't move."

"I won't, I promise."

"K." Puck squeezes his leg, for good measure, then turns and heads for the curtain separating him and Jude from the waiting room. He doesn't actually leave until Miss Kelly reaches him, but as soon as she's there, he tells her that Jude wants to talk to her then takes off down the hall after Rachel.

"Oh, so he's _my _son, is he?" Puck asks when he catches up to her, his hand on the small of her back.

Rachel huffs a little then spins on her heel to face him. "When he lands himself in the hospital trying to show off for a girl, then _brags _about his scar, yes, he's your son."

"C'mere, baby," he pulls her into his chest and rests his chin on top of her head. "Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad."

Puck scoffs at that.

"I'm _not_." She wraps her arms around his waist and turns her head so that her cheek rests on his chest, just over his heart. "I was scared. I'm _still _scared. That phone call, it was … it was the most terrifying moment of my life."

"I know baby. Me too."

"But I'm not mad. I'm just going to go take care of that paperwork, then swing by the pharmacy. You take Little Man home and get him cleaned up, take care of his hair, please. Oh, and Noah," she untangles her arms from his and rests her hands on his stomach to push herself back a little and look up at him. "Call your mother and apologize. I don't even want to _think _about how many times you put her through this."

Puck rolls his eyes at her, but he knows she can see the little smile he's trying to hide. He was just thinking the same thing.

Rachel turns to keep walking toward the nurses' station but before she makes it more than a step or two, he grabs her wrist and tugs her back. His other hand comes up to cradle her jaw and he leans down to kiss her slowly, his thumb brushing over her cheek and his tongue barely brushing across her lips as his lips move over hers. They try to avoid PDA most of the time, especially since Jude's come along, just because of each of their statuses, but it's basically been the day from hell and he _needs _to kiss his wife. And she kisses back, so yeah.

When he pulls back a few seconds later she looks dazed, but he also actually sees her smiling for the first time since she left that morning for rehearsal, so he figures he did good.

"I'll bring home pizza," she says softly. "And a movie." She leans up and kisses him again, just a quick peck, then turns to leave, and this time he lets her go.

"Get Toy Story 3," he calls after her before she can get so far he has to actually raise his voice, "that's Little Man's favorite."

"You mean it's _your _favorite," she calls back.

"Hey," he growls, but she just keeps walking, so he knows she can tell he doesn't really mean it. "Can you watch it with that? I've got a rep to uphold here!" She keeps walking, just throws one hand up in the air and wiggles her fingers at him, and as hard as he tries not to, he's grinning as he turns to walk back to get Jude.


	3. What are Brothers For?

Rachel lifts her eyes from her book when she hears her brother-in-law shuffle into the room. "Good morning," she smiles up at him.

"Mornin'," Jake shoots back gruffly. "Why the fu-," he cuts himself off and clears his throat. "'S early."

She only smiles back. She knows exactly what he was going to say – he is Noah's brother, after all. (And she chooses to disregard that 'half' thing altogether. Family is family, and the way she sees it, no one can really afford to discriminate over something so trivial as sharing only _half _of one's DNA.) She also loves that he stopped himself, something his brother probably _wouldn't _have done. "Would you like some coffee?" She gestures toward hers on the end table. "Mine is decaf, but I'd be happy to make a new pot."

Jake pulls a face that makes her giggle. "Ugh, no." His eyes go a little wide and he looks a bit guilty. "I mean, thanks but no thanks. First of all, I definitely didn't come here for you to wait on me. And second, no offense, but I don't know how you guys drink that stuff. It's awful." Rachel laughs quietly again. "And you're doing it without the caffeine! What's the point?"

Rachel just shrugs and tilts her head a little to one side. "I love it. I'm probably a bit addicted, to be honest. Having to give up my coffee was the first of the very few negative thoughts I had regarding the pregnancy – the others all concerning my body and my return to my career. But," she flips her hand through the air almost over her shoulder, "I immediately switched to decaf, and I've begun to think that what I used to regard as an addiction to caffeine is quite possibly an addiction to coffee itself."

Jake shrugs as if he can't begin to understand and drops into the armchair on the other side of the room from where she's sitting on the couch. "How're you and the jelly bean?" His voice is gravelly with sleep, and Rachel wonders why he even woke up, since she knows she wasn't the cause. She's very quiet in the mornings.

"Are you asking because you're really interested, or because Noah called and told you to?" She smirks at him. "And _jelly bean?_"

A faint blush spreads across Jake's brown skin. Rachel thinks it's kind of sweet. "Both," he admits, head ducked just a little. "And yeah, jelly bean." He looks back up at her and his eyes are sparkling. "When my aunt Jenny was pregnant, she called hers peanut. But my nephew's gonna be way cooler than a _peanut_. I figure there's all different kinds of jelly beans, and they're like, kinda hard on the outside and soft on the inside, so they're way more interesting than peanuts. Besides," he smiles this wide smile, and Rachel can't help but smile back, "you're a Berry right? And jelly beans totally come in berry flavors."

Rachel laughs out loud until her hands are pressing into her sides a little because they ache. That is quite possibly one of the cutest things she's ever heard. "You know," she finally says, when she's stopped laughing and Jake is just grinning back at her, "your brother is convinced it's going to be a girl." Okay, that's not entirely true. It's more that he's terrified of it _not _being a girl (something about all his mother's curses of '_I hope you have a son just like you someday'_ possibly coming true, she guesses; he promises her it has nothing to do with past mistakes or trying to do things over again, and she believes him), but he won't even fully admit that to her and he would absolutely lose it if she told Jake that.

"I know," he replies cockily. "And ya know, it's not like I've actually done this before myself, but seven months in, couldn't you just find out for sure what it is? That way Puck doesn't have to realize he was wrong on the day the kid's actually born. Or you could just let the doctor tell me."

Rachel shakes her head, but smiles, at Jake's smugness. She loves the relationship he and Noah have, she knows Noah loves it too, and wishes they could have gotten to know each other earlier in their lives. It's all worked out well in the end, though, so she figures the whole situation's not so bad. "We've talked about finding out – many times. But for someone who's so insistent that he 'knows' it's going to be a girl, Noah refuses to find out for sure. And I can only imagine the fun you'd have torturing him if you knew."

"Hey," he shrugs and throws his hands up in the air before settling them behind his head, "what are brothers for?"

Rachel shoots him what is meant to be a disapproving glance, but she's only joking and she knows he can tell. She watches him for a few seconds longer, but he just settles into the chair and lets his eyes drift around the room. After half a minute of them sitting in what she perceives to be a comfortable silence, Rachel turns her attention back to her book. She has no problem entertaining herself, and it appears that Jake feels the same way.

Rachel's made it through almost a chapter of the Austen novel she's reading for the third time when she really notices Jake's fidgeting. He's trying to be quiet, she can tell, but she can also tell he's antsy about something. She puts her book face-down on her lap and looks up at him. When she does, he's looking back at her sheepishly.

"Sorry."

"It's okay," she assures him. She should have asked if he'd like to turn on the television. Since she started showing and took leave from her show, she's gotten used to either having the house to herself in the mornings or having Noah around, doing his thing without needing her permission. It didn't really occur to her to _tell _Jake that he could do something other than just sit there.

"Do you mind?" he points across the room and she sees him eyeing the guitar on the stand in the corner.

"No," she lifts her hand and sort of waves in that direction. "By all means."

"Will he?" Jake lifts one eyebrow questioningly as he stands.

"No." She smirks. "Just don't touch the one in the bedroom."

Jake chuckles a little as he makes his way back to the chair, carrying one of Noah's acoustic guitars gingerly. "Yeah, I think the guitar'd be the least of my problems with Puck if I was in ya'll's bedroom." It's a very _Puckerman _thing to say, and Rachel doesn't really know the most appropriate way to respond to it coming from her brother-in-law. It doesn't really matter, though, because as soon as he's seated again, this time perched almost on the edge of the chair and leaning forward a bit instead of reclining into it, he's plucking at the strings and fiddling with the tuning pegs.

It's another similarity between the two men, Rachel notes. (She also makes note of the irony of the fact that the only thing Noah and Jake share is the DNA of a man who doesn't deserve to be called 'father' to either of them, yet she can't honestly say that she finds anything wrong with any of the things they apparently inherited.) While she's perfectly content being in the house in complete silence with only a book or a script to keep her company, Noah, as well as Jake, apparently, has to have background noise at all times – even better if it comes in the form of music, and better still if he's the one making it. She knows people most likely expect the opposite and would be surprised to know the truth, but while she certainly knows how to fill the silence, she knows how to appreciate it as well, and though Noah is the 'strong, silent type,' he doesn't like for that to be true about his surroundings. She believes that being so trapped in his own thoughts makes him feel overwhelmed.

Just because Rachel can appreciate the silence, though, doesn't mean she can't appreciate quality background noise just as much. And the 'noise' Jake is creating certainly counts as 'quality.' He's a very talented musician. She won't say he's as good as his brother (and not just because she's married to him, Noah is just … he's incredible), but he's very, very good. He's better than just about anyone else she knows, and that's saying a lot, given her and Noah's career fields.

She feels like some of the melodies he's playing are so very familiar, but then he keeps playing and she decides that she doesn't know the song after all. But then just when she's ready to write it off as something she's never heard, there's that familiarity again. She's just about to ask him what exactly he's playing, because she just can't stand it anymore, when she feels movement – a _lot _of movement – beneath the hand that's still resting on her rounded stomach. She gasps because it's quite possibly the most activity she's ever felt out of Baby Puckerman.

Jake's playing stops abruptly, his hands stilling on the strings and his eyes growing wide. "Oh God, are you okay? Do I need to call Puck? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

Rachel laughs a little breathlessly. "No, I'm fine. The baby's just kicking. A lot." She laughs again then waves him over. "Come here, feel."

"I-is that allowed?" He furrows his brow and looks at her skeptically.

"Of course it's allowed!" Rachel almost snaps at him. He needs to hurry or he's going to miss it. "Just come feel." He still looks a little nervous as he turns to set the guitar in the chair, but he's moving and within seconds he's on the couch reaching one hand tentatively toward her stomach. She grabs his wrist and tugs until his palm is resting lightly right in the middle of her gigantic (in her opinion) baby bump.

"Oh wow!" Jake's just staring down at his hand with this look of amazement on his face. Rachel loves that look. Noah gets it every time he feels the baby. "He's got some real power, doesn't he?"

Rachel stares at Jake's hand now too, and she sees him jerk it a little bit when the baby delivers a particularly strong blow. "The baby must like you," she tells him. "This is the most I've ever felt it kick."

"Of course he likes me." He's talking to her, of course, but he never takes his eyes off her stomach, leaning even a little closer before going on. "I'm awesome Uncle Jake."

"Yes, well," she shakes her head and sits back as the movement in her stomach comes to a halt and Jake eases away from her a little, "you're going to be _Uncle Jake with no place to stay for the next week _if Noah catches you calling the baby a 'he' like that." When he first looks at her face he looks a little nervous, but he must be able to see that she's teasing him, because he smirks and moves back to the chair.

"Just wait. He'll see."

Rachel laughs at her brother-in-law's arrogance. Honestly, she can't decide which would be more amusing to her at this point, him being right or him being wrong. (She really, really doesn't care either way about the sex of the baby. As soon as she starts to think that maybe it would be better to have one or the other, she thinks of something else that changes her mind.)

~.~

Later, that evening after dinner, Rachel is sitting on the couch with her feet propped up on the ottoman that goes with the armchair and Noah is sprawled across the cushions, his head resting in her lap.

"Your hair's getting long," she tells him as she runs her fingers through it, nails scratching lightly over his scalp.

"I know," he grunts. "Need a haircut."

Rachel only hums. "I like it." She closes her fingers around the strands and tugs a little, just lightly the way she loves herself. "It's kind of curly." His only response is to half-groan, half-growl as he changes the channel on the television to ESPN. "I hope the baby gets your hair."

"Love your hair," Noah mumbles, and Rachel knows he's not just saying it. She's known he liked it since sophomore year. He's never really been able to keep his hands out of it, sometimes innocently, sometimes not so much.

"I know," she sighs, "but still."

Noah rolls onto his back a little and looks up at her. "Thought you wanted 'er to have my nose." (And yes, that conversation had managed to evolve into a full-blown argument. It had taken 20 minutes of screaming and foot-stomping and eye-rolling for her to convince him that she wasn't saying that because she still had a problem with her own nose, but instead because she just really liked his. Once she did, though, he just smirked down at her and said, "Yeah, I _am _pretty hot.")

She trails her thumb between his eyes and over the bridge of his nose. "I love your nose. And our baby can have more than one thing from you, you know." The tips of her index and middle fingers dance over his lips. "Your mouth is perfect, too."

Noah lifts his head off her lap just a little to nip at her fingers then kisses each one before she pulls her hand away. "Fine by me. The less she gets from you, the less likely I am to end up in prison for murdering some 16-year-old douche."

"Noah!" she swats at his shoulder, but the only move he makes is to roll back over facing the tv. (But honestly? She's pretty sure she would be okay with the baby getting everything from him too, for a completely different reason.) "And you can't be sure -,"

"It's a girl." He cuts her off then mumbles something about the _damn Indians_.

"This is messed up," Jake says from behind the couch, and Rachel didn't even realize he'd come into the room. She assumes he's referring to something about the baseball game Noah is complaining about so she disregards the comment completely until Noah flips over onto his back to look up at his brother.

"The hell're you talkin' about?"

"That," Jake says, and Noah scowls at him, so Rachel tilts her head back to try to figure out what is going on between the two.

When she looks at him, Jake's just looking down at the two of them there on the couch, and okay, now she's pretty curious too.

Jake rolls his eyes and walks over to have a seat in the chair. "The fact that you're just layin' there all comfy and sh-_crap_ while your wife, who's been busy the last seven months literally _growing a person, _by the way, pampers you or whatever. It's wrong. S'all I'm sayin'."

"S'not even like that, dude. She likes it. She's like, nesting or whatever," Noah tells him as he rolls back onto his side. And yes, that's true – Rachel really enjoys sitting here with Noah and just sort of petting him like this (and the hormones probably do have something to do with it, amplifying her need to nurture, but she always has enjoyed it, something about getting to feel like she's taking care of him for once) – but he's really going to have to be still because between his tossing and turning and the baby constantly pressing against her bladder, she won't be able to sit much longer otherwise.

"It's true," she smiles at Jake as her fingers trace the shell of Noah's ear. "I'm not sure about the nesting part, but I do enjoy this. It's nice, even a little soothing."

Jake snorts and shakes his head, but he's smiling as he does it. "If you say so."

Noah has told her that Jake is, well, he's not _jealous _of them, exactly, but he definitely wants what they have. Unlike Noah, Jake spent most of high school in a rather serious relationship. But when high school ended, so did the relationship. It wasn't ugly or anything, just one of those things that happens, but since then he's been basically a serial monogamist, his relationships ranging anywhere from a month to just under a year. On the one hand, Rachel really thinks it's a shame – he's a wonderful man, a wonderful person, really (and she's only a little bit biased thanks to her own relationship to him), and she hates it for him that he has had so much trouble finding what he wants and so clearly deserves – but on the other hand she knows that he'll get there eventually and that when he does, it will all have been worth it. Just look at her and Noah.

"I do."

The three of them sit in relative quiet for the next several minutes, the men watching the game on the television and Rachel playing Words with Friends with Kurt, one hand holding her phone and the fingers of the other continuing to run over Noah's scalp. After a while, there is a chorus of curses from both Noah and Jake, and Rachel assumes the game must be over because Noah turns off the television and tosses the remote onto the coffee table.

"I take it your team lost," Rachel looks between the brothers and tries not to laugh because, is Noah really pouting?

"Don't wanna talk about it," he grumbles, and Rachel just tucks both of her lips back into her mouth and bites down on them a little to keep him from seeing her smile. She pays a little extra attention to that spot on the nape of his neck that he loves so much, and she can feel him relaxing a little, but she can also feel him getting ready to move, because now it's quiet, which means he'll fidget until it's not.

"Jake," she says sweetly, "why don't you play something for us?"

"Huh?" Jake looks a little confused as he just stares back at her with his brow furrowed.

"Sure," she nods and smiles comfortingly. "There's nothing good on tv, and Noah's worked all day and I never did manage to master the guitar, so you should play something." She doesn't actually know _what's _on television right now, and she's pretty sure that no amount of exhaustion would keep Noah from playing if someone asked and actually wanted to hear him, but she's kind of had this little idea in her head since the morning and she wants to see it play out.

"That cool?" Jake looks down at Noah, who just halfway shrugs and nods, so he goes to get the guitar he'd played that morning.

Rachel hadn't asked him to play the same melody – song? – he'd played that morning when it was just the two of them, but he does anyway. She feels Noah's fingers tapping on her knee and wonders if he knows the song, but just when it gets to that part that she _knows _she knows and just can't place, the baby wakes up from the nap she's convinced it takes every night just after she eats dinner and becomes just as active as it was that morning. Noah almost jumps off the couch.

"What was that?" he asks, once he's half-laying, half-sitting with his weight propped on the elbow of the arm that's still stretched across Rachel's lap. He's turned completely over so that his body is angled toward the back of the couch and he's staring directly at her stomach, his free hand pressed against the spot where the back of his head had been only seconds ago.

"That was your child," she tells him, then looks over at Jake and smiles, nodding for him to keep playing.

"I-Is everything okay?" He's rubbing these little circles over her stomach and her eyes fall closed.

"Mmhmm," is all she can manage.

"That was – holy cow!" Rachel giggles at the look of complete awe on his face when she opens her eyes. He leans a little closer to her stomach and she could swear Jake plays a little more quietly when he almost whispers, "You're not 'sposed to kick Daddy in the head, Baby Girl. You _scared _me." He smoothes his hand over her stomach a few more times, then she's sure he's forgotten about Jake altogether because he lifts her shirt just to her belly button and presses his lips to her skin. She's watching him, because she can't not, really, but she glances over at Jake just for a second and his eyes are focused on his fingers and his cheeks are a little pinker than usual. "Is that normal?" Noah asks once he's smoothed her shirt back into place and gotten comfortable again on his back. Jake's still playing quietly, and one of Noah's hands is still running lazy lines across her stomach because Baby Puckerman hasn't calmed down all the way just yet.

"Well, it _is _out of the ordinary, as far as the baby and I are concerned, it's never really been that active before," Rachel tells him. "But it's not a problem, if that's what you're asking." Noah only nods and keeps watching his hand move across her stomach.

Whatever it is that Jake's been playing comes to a close and the music tapers off, getting quieter and quieter until there's basically no sound in the room. The baby stops moving, too. Noah looks up again, almost as startled as he'd been when the sudden movement began. "Did you -," he kind of stares at Rachel and she just smiles back at him. "Dude," he looks at Jake as he pushes himself up so that he's sitting next to her. "What was that?"

Jake shrugs like he doesn't see what the big deal is, but he can't quite stop smiling. "Just some stuff I put together. Mash-up of a bunch of Beatles stuff, 'Hey Jude' and 'All You Need is Love,' mostly."

"Noah," Rachel gasps and reaches out for his hand. "Noah, 'Hey Jude.' It's perfect!"

Noah's just kind of looking at the ceiling and shaking his head and Jake asks, "Perfect for what?"

Rachel squirms a little in her seat and she can't stop smiling, and Noah just looks at her like he thinks she's a little crazy. "Well, we've been having a little trouble coming up with a potential boy name for the baby -,"

"'Cause we don't need one."

"- and that's just, Jude. It's perfect."

"We already got a perfect name." Noah's looking at Jake instead of her, and she's sure he's rolling his eyes and making other ridiculous faces to imply that she's lost her mind or something.

The thing is, this is the only baby they're ever going to have. They'll both turn 30 before the end of the year, and she's always said that she didn't want to have any children after she was 30. For one thing, it leaves her plenty of time to get back into her career after the baby's born and she takes some time – a few months or even a year – off to stay at home. For another, she knows how the risks increase once a woman hits 30, and then even more once she hits 35, and those aren't risks she really wants to take if she doesn't have to. Granted, if she'd made it to 30 and she and Noah still hadn't gotten pregnant, she probably would have given it a couple more years. (It didn't take long after they got together, _really _got together, for her to realize that she wanted everything with him – a marriage, a family, everything.) Luckily though, it hadn't come to that. And once they made it to the second trimester and the doctor assured them that everything was going very well and the risk of anything going wrong was extremely low, Noah scheduled a vasectomy. Honestly, even Rachel was surprised by that, but his rationality when he told her that it was just a much less invasive procedure than it would be for her to have something done to herself was admirable. He also pointed out that it takes about six months after the procedure before it is considered to be 100% effective, which was perfect, because '_It's not like I can knock you up any more than you already are.'_ So anyway, everything is pretty much a one-time only deal, which, to Rachel at least, means that everything has to be perfect. She wouldn't want her child having a less-than-adequate name under any circumstances, but knowing that this is the only chance they get somehow adds to the pressure.

"We have a perfect _girl_ name," she insists and turns her body toward him, sliding her free hand up his arm to rest on his shoulder. "We have _no _boy name."

"S'cause we don't need one."

It's funny, actually, because this is very similar to how the conversation went when they came up with that perfect girl name. It was almost ridiculous how easy it was, deciding on the name. Rachel had been watching 'The Little Mermaid,' because it had always been her favorite Disney classic, and Noah came home, dropped onto the couch next to her, and said, "Ya know, Ariel's a Hebrew name. S'pretty too." They talked about it for about 30 seconds, threw Caroline into the middle because they just kind of had to, and had their perfect girl name. But then they argued for the next 30 minutes, Rachel insisting that they now had to have their perfect boy name too, and Noah insisting that they didn't need one at all.

"Noah," Rachel whines, resting her chin on his shoulder and pushing out her bottom lip. "Please, can't we just talk about it? Jude is a really good name."

Noah doesn't turn his head, but he looks at her out of the corner of his eye, and she can see him giving in before he actually says anything. "Fine. We'll talk."

Jake starts to chuckle from his spot on the other side of the room, but Noah whips his head in that direction. "Not you. You don't get to talk. You've done enough already." Jake throws up his hands in surrender, but he doesn't stop laughing.

Rachel's beaming as she shifts on the couch until she's leaning back against the arm a little and her legs are laying across Noah's lap. He's trying to be aggravated with her, and Jake too, probably, but as soon as her legs are on top of his, one hand finds its way to her thigh, just above her knee, and the other begins kneading her calf the way he learned to do when rehearsals for her first show started and she suffered from a Charlie horse for the first time in her life.

"Just think about it – it has a strong musical connection, which, let's face it, we both want even if we don't say it out loud, but it's not some silly pop reference or cliché. And on top of that it's just a really lovely, _Hebrew _name." She reaches forward to rest one hand on top of his on her thigh. "I think Jude Noah Puckerman sounds wonderful."

He kind of stares at her, and she knows he's thinking about it, that he probably even likes the way it sounds. Finally he sighs like he's been defeated (she knows if he actually had a problem with the name, he'd tell her) and says, "It won't matter."

She just smiles and bites her bottom lip, even bats her eyelashes a couple times. "But if it does?"

He sighs again and shakes his head like he can't believe what he's about to say. "It's a good name." Rachel actually squeals a little and bounces on the couch. "We're not gonna need it," he shoots her a look and she tries to calm herself a bit, "but it's a good name."


End file.
